Seed Born of Blood
by bloodshedbaby-starshine
Summary: A collaboration fic between BLOODSHEDBABY and STARSHINE. This is a Bloodshedverse challenge response,33. Buffy is resurrected after 'the Gift' with the extra gift of re-animated sperm. SB Warning-bloodplay
1. Default Chapter

Seed Born of Blood

By Starshine and Bloodshedbaby

Response to Challenge 33 at the Bloodshedverse, submitted by Meli77  
. Requirements

Imagine if during "The Gift," if Buffy sleeps with Spike when they go back to her house to get weapons. Spike thinking he had nothing to lose, went ahead and claimed Buffy. A few hours later, Buffy dies in the battle. Now, the Scoobies do not want anyone to know that Buffy has died. Xander builds a coffin for her, and Willow does a spell to preserve the body, since they can not have her embalmed. Now, 147 days after she dies, Willow does the resurrection spell to bring Buffy back. The resurrection spell revives Buffy, including Spike's sperm from when they had sex right before she died. Then two months later, Buffy is sick and finds out that she is pregnant. Now Buffy has to deal with not only being pulled out of heaven by her friends, but that she is having Spike's baby.

Pairing: B/S. R or NC-17, hopefully NC-17

Setting: Starts at the end of season 5, episode "The Gift"

Spike does not try to rape Buffy

Buffy finds somewhere to work other than The Doublemeat Palace

Include the Trio's argument of Connery vs. Moore vs. Dalton

Include the line "news from the file marked 'duh.'"

Tara is shot but is not killed

Spike being overprotective of Buffy

Angel finds out that Buffy is pregnant by Spike

Ideas you can use:

Angel being jealous of Spike

Spike bonding with Dawn or the Scoobies

Angel tries (unsuccessfully) to bond with the Dawn & the Scoobies as well

Riley returns to Sunnydale

Spike, Xander, Giles getting drunk together

Xander and Anya get married

Spike and Angel fighting (physically) over Buffy

Giles laughing to Buffy's confession

Chapter 1

By Starshine

Prologue

"I know you'll never love me."

Buffy stopped halfway up the stairs of her house and turned back around to see the platinum blonde vampire standing there looking at her the whole of his undead heart in his beautiful blue eyes as he stared up at her.

"I know that I'm a monster, but you treat me like a man, and that's…" Spike stopped, taking in a deep, unnecessary breath. He shook his head slightly as if he was trying to regain his composure.

Buffy looked at him, speechless. Was this really the same creature that came to Sunnydale not more than three years ago? No, she thought with calm certainty. That creature had been full of brash swagger and boundless ego. This vampire-- this MAN-- stood before her ready to sacrifice everything for a little girl he barely knew. And for what? There was nothing in it for him, no money or claim to fame. He possessed no soul to tell him that; right or wrong, this was the thing to do.

Most of his kind was probably gathered somewhere, waiting with great anticipation for the world to be thrown into a state of chaos that would leave them free to roam the earth, taking what they wanted and feasting on the demise of humanity.

Yet he stayed.

He stayed when no one else did; standing side by side with what had once been his mortal enemy. Solid and steadfast, he never hesitated to give her his all, by word or deed.

She thought back to earlier this evening when she had searched him out. It had been her intent to ask for his help in getting Dawnie and her friends out of town. He had been standing in front of his duffle with a crossbow in his hands and memories scattered across the bed, obviously packing. She had swallowed a lump of fear and asked him where he was going.

"Sussed out something on the large capacity side of vehicular travel. Should take me about twenty minutes to nick. Your mates waiting somewhere?"

Buffy had nodded.

"Right then, let's get moving."

She hadn't even had to ask him. He had just known. Once again, without a word of protest, he was ready to follow her to hell and back. Buffy had known at that moment that it wasn't only about Dawn. As fond as he might be of the girl, she knew in her heart that it was about her.

Once upon a time, she had told him that he couldn't love; he wasn't capable of such an emotion. She knew now that she was wrong. So very, very wrong.

"Get your stuff, I'll be here," Spike said, breaking her out of her reverie.

Buffy turned and began to walk up the stairs, feeling his eyes boring into her back with each step she took. Suddenly, she turned around.

"Spike, I'm sorry," she whispered.

He tilted his head to the side and looked up at her enquiringly.

"That night…When I told you that you were beneath me. I'm sorry for that."

Spike looked down in a futile attempt to hide the pain that those vile words still caused him.

Any other insult he could have shaken off, but to hear the words that had started him on his path to eternal damnation fall from her lips with such furious loathing had cut him to the core.

She retraced her steps until she stood on the bottom step of the staircase, her somber hazel eyes level with his. One hand rested on the carved newel post, her fingernails digging tiny half-moons into the soft wood.

"I had to say something. You…you were right. Everything that you said about me, about Slayers and their death wishes, was right. I was desperate to prove you wrong, to regain the upper hand. Of all the things I could have said or done, I chose that. It was a cruel and thoughtless thing to do to someone who was only trying to make me see what was in store for me if I didn't open my eyes. It was wrong, and I hope that someday you can forgive me for it."

"Evil vampire here, luv. Kind of used to things like that," he replied, trying his damnedest to keep her from seeing how much her apology affected him. Ever the Big Bad.

"Sometimes are you are, but I also know that sometimes you're not. That same night you came here and found me crying on the back steps. It didn't matter to you that I had just tried to slay you with words; you sat with me for hours and offered comfort. After my mom died; in spite of what Xander said, you went out of your way to bring those flowers for her. And then, you endured unspeakable torture for hours when all you had to do to make it stop was tell Glory who the Key was. Those weren't the actions of an evil monster. Those were the actions of a man. It's taken me a long time, but I've finally learned that the world isn't black and white. Nothing is absolute. No one is completely good or bad."

In a move that was bold and totally without artifice, she reached out and touched his face, her fingers brushing the high arch of his cheekbone.

"You're not a monster, Spike," she said.

The softness of her voice echoed through his unbeating heart. He wanted so badly to kiss her, to give her something that expressed how much her words meant to him. He had tried twice before, only to have her flinch away and look upon him in revulsion. Deciding with disgust that he was indeed love's bitch, he dared to try for a third time. Leaning forward, he pressed a chaste kiss on her soft, pink lips.

Pulling back, he braced himself for a punch or kick to impact painfully with some part of his anatomy. What he got was the firm pressure of a small but lethal hand that slid around the back of his neck to draw him close once more.

Her parted lips met his and Spike's eyes widened in awe before drifting shut in ecstasy.

Buffy Summers, his mortal enemy; the one thing he loved more than anything in his miserable undead existence, was kissing him. And the only magic involved was what they were creating between them.

A hard shove sent him sprawling on his back and he looked up at her with a brief flash of fear in his eyes, his pose reminiscent of that night in the alley behind the Bronze when she had flayed him with her bitterly spoken words. Instead he found himself being surrounded by her as she flung herself down on top of him, her mouth eagerly devouring his as she tugged impatiently at his shirt.

The silence between them spoke volumes as they clung together in desperation. Kisses were met with equal fervor and hands clutched demandingly as they writhed together on the worn carpet. He flipped her beneath him, a soundless gasp escaping him as her small hand encircled his turgid member, guiding him home.

She moaned as he filled her, driving away all the fear and uncertainty inside her as she lost herself in the sight, smell, and taste of him. They moved together, their bodies in perfect sync. Her eyes never wavered from his as she reveled in the wonder and adoration that spilled from his.

The strength and swiftness of her climax took her breath away. Buffy threw her head back, his name a rapturous hiss from between clenched teeth as she tightened her muscles around him and dug her nails into his churning backside.

Spike growled at her actions, fighting a losing battle with his demon. He turned his shifting face away from her, not wanting the sight of his ridges and fangs to spoil the moment. When she realized what he was trying to do, she took his face in her hands and guided him to her neck.

Any resistance died a quick death as she urged him on. Purring softly in appreciation, he laved the fragrant skin over her pulse with his roughened tongue before gently biting down.

The initial sting of pain was quickly replaced by the most incredible pleasure she had ever felt. He slowed his thrusts to match the rhythm of his lips on her neck; each pull bringing another crashing wave of blissful sensation.

Moved by some primal instinct, she lunged forward and closed her teeth over the faded scars of Drusilla's mark. Uncaring of the ramifications, she bit down, her blunt teeth tearing at his flesh and drawing blood.

His howl of ecstasy was deafening and he shuddered uncontrollably against her. The tug of her mouth as she suckled at the wounds she had inflicted sent him over the edge and he growled savagely as he spilled himself within her incredible heat.

They moved as one in the aftermath, both licking up the last drops of blood before lifting their heads and simultaneously uttering one word.

"Mine."

Replete, they clung tenaciously, savoring the few precious remaining moments before the world spun out of control once more. Neither offered paltry excuses for what had occurred; no explanations were needed.

"You're wrong, you know," Buffy whispered. "I could, I think. One day I think I could…"

An unearthly silence reigned as Spike stared incredulously at Buffy. She lay among the rubble, her slight body completely still; a look of ineffable peace on her face.

An anguished whimper escaped him as the rising sun drove him back, keeping him from joining the others at her side. He staggered as close as he dared, uncaring of his own decimated body as he fell to his knees. His eyes never left her as he reached out with his mind, relying on the ancient claiming ritual they had shared to seek out the faintest of connections, some sign that her essence still lingered.

There was no answer to his desperate inner pleas. Their connection was severed; he felt nothing from her. She was gone.

Spike began to weep, his face covered in blood and tears as he buried it in his hands. The emptiness he felt was unendurable. Ragged sobs were torn from him as he mourned her loss, not caring who saw his grief. A part of him was gone forever; the best part. The most beautiful thing he had ever known was lost to him forever.

The last words she had spoken to him rang in his ears.

"You're wrong, you know…I could, I think. One day I think I could…"


	2. 2

a/n Major thanks to spikeslovebite for an AWESOME beta job, thank you!!!!!!

Chapter 2

By Bloodshedbaby

Spike distractedly crushed his cigarette out under the heel of his boot, leaving a smoldering imprint in the grass of the cemetery he was currently patrolling.

It had been 147 days.

147 days she'd been gone; each minute stretching into a blind eternity. 147 days of emptiness so complete that Spike didn't think he'd ever dig himself out... and didn't really know if he wanted to. He didn't deserve an end to this eternal torment; he had let her die. His mate was gone forever. Even the fiery pits of hell would be a vacation compared to this endless living nightmare.

But the same part of him that craved his death and an end to the pain also refused to give up the piece of her he still clung to. The memories of their stolen moments together...

A part of him had died along with Buffy, something vital. She had lived in his heart; and he carried the weight of her absence inside of him where it taunted him mercilessly. That particular organ may no longer beat, but a significant piece of it had been lost that night all the same.

So now he did the only thing he could do by keeping his eye on everything Buffy had held close to her. Kept the nasties away from her little Scooby club, took care of Dawn, and threw himself into being the exact opposite of what he was-a soulless monster.

Not that his efforts were ever noticed. The others were too caught up in their own selfish needs and grief to notice anything. Spike didn't have a problem with that though, preferring his mostly solitary existence. He found it much easier to break down and grieve if there was nobody around to see you, and more importantly; mock you for it.

On more than one occasion, Spike had jerked out of a sound sleep; a question weighing heavily on his mind, 'Was it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?'

And each time he would swiftly come to a firm conclusion. No, he wouldn't trade having had Buffy's love for even a moment, even though the pain of that loss consumed him; an agony without end. There was an empty place inside him that she had so briefly touched, a place that would never be filled again.

Pulling himself out of his morose thoughts, Spike stopped and extended his senses, hoping for a spot of violence to provide just a bit of cloud coverage for his shredded emotions. He frowned a bit at the surge of static electricity in the air, his gelled hair feeling the effects.

He was lucky enough to be patrolling solo tonight, something that always came as a blessing. During the times when he couldn't escape patrolling with the soddin' Scoobies, it always felt like a bad comedy routine. How had the Slayer tolerated their ineptitude for so many years? He'd lost count of the times he'd had to bail their asses out of one scrape or another. Not that he was ever thanked for his heroics, of course; listening as blatant excuses spilled from their ungrateful mouths about how they didn't really need his help. Yet they let him take care of Dawn without a second thought.

There was a scuffling noise in the far corner of the cemetery and Spike allowed a cruel grin to slide across his face. He welcomed the distraction of a newly risen vamp with bad timing, picking this particular moment to rise when Spike was on the grounds. It was a brief reprieve in a barren world, and Spike decided to let it extend a bit longer than usual. Anything to give his life a small hint of color.

It didn't take long for the fledgling to flounder under Spike's brutal attack. Violence against his kind was the only outlet he allowed himself these days; the only thing that made him forget for just a moment that he was alone. Alcohol just served to be the depressant it really was. He'd learned the hard way that there was no solace to be found at the bottom of a bottle, plus his duties to take care of Dawn were hampered when he was drunk, and that just wouldn't do.

After pulverizing almost every bone in his unworthy opponent's body, Spike finally whipped out the stake nestled in the pocket of his black leather duster and poised it above the beaten vampire. As his arm plunged down to drive the sharp wooden point through shattered ribs and into a non-beating heart, Spike suddenly gasped in shock.

The empty hole that Buffy had left behind in his heart suddenly began writhing; a quivering awareness that sent shivers down his spine. He stared unfocused as vampire dust settled in the grass, trying to make sense of this feeling that had been denied to him since the moment Buffy's body had finished its deadly decent off the tower.

His whole body shook as feelings suddenly slammed into him.

Fear.

Panic.

He didn't think; he just moved, his feet swiftly taking him in the direction of the patch of earth that was Buffy's final resting place. His brain tried to wrap around what could have happened, but logic failed to find a foothold in his frantic mindset.

When he reached the small cemetery where she was buried, Spike threw himself down on the grass where he had spent so many nights crying. He didn't know what he was looking for and why it was so important that he be here, he was relying on instinct.

And then he heard it.

Scratching.

With a sharp cry, Spike knelt in the grass above her and began ripping it apart. Loosely packed chunks of earth were tossed aside in his desperate pursuit to reach the ornate wood coffin that Xander had built. Fingers raw and bleeding, he went about the task with ferocious intent, the pain refusing to register as his focus intensified. He could hear her now; muffled screams reaching his ears, bringing a flood of tears to his eyes. Spike didn't spare a thought to WHY; his sole objective to reach the smooth wooden lid... and find out what lay behind it.

After what seemed like an eternity, his fingers found the lid of the coffin. With an extra spurt of supernatural strength, Spike tore through the remaining remnants of earth, his heart clenching at the sounds of the frantic clawing and desperate pleas from within.

"Buffy?"

Silence.

Then the sound of panicked crying once more, the echo of fingernails working the underside of the coffin lid as whatever was inside tried frantically to free itself.

"I'm getting ya out, luv. Turn your head to the side; I'm gonna have to punch my way through."

A muffled silence was his response that she heard the orders, and Spike proceeded to smash his way through the outer rim of the coffin.

His fist crashed through on the second try. Spike tore at the offending wood still in his way and was suddenly met with a pair of wide, panic-stricken eyes, her mouth gasping for the fresh air that was now available. It was a face frozen in terror, but it was HER. Spike realized the clothes she had been buried in had started the typical postmortem decomposition process, but somehow Buffy had been spared that same fate.

It reeked of witchcraft, but Spike wasn't concerned with the 'why's' at the moment.

Spike hesitantly held a hand out to Buffy, almost afraid to touch her. "Come on, pet; let's get you out of there."

There was no flicker of awareness that she had heard him, her eyes wide and filled with panic, her entire face a canvas of acute mental agony. Her breath was coming fast and shallow now, and Spike could hear her heart racing at an abnormally rapid pace.

With a muffled curse, Spike realized he was in game face and self disgust flooded him at the knowledge that he had added to her distress. Quickly, he shook off the ridges and fangs, never allowing his eyes to leave hers.

"S-spike?" her voice was husky and rough from disuse, and absolutely the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. Oh god, it was her voice.

A fresh torrent of tears flooded his eyes, and he smiled down at her. "Yeah, pet. It's Spike."

Her face crumpled as huge sobs suddenly overwhelmed her, and just as Spike was withdrawing his hand, she clutched at it in desperation.

In less than a moment, Spike had her out of the splintered coffin and onto solid ground where she collapsed against him, her sobs wracking her entire body. This was beyond pain, beyond terror, and Spike found himself crying along with her.

"It's ok, luv. I've got you... Spike's got you..." he murmured over and over.

But her terror had now made her inconsolable and she clutched him with all the slayer strength she had still possessed, causing Spike to grunt as ribs gave way.

But he was in heaven, and the pain she was inflicting on him just made it real. He wasn't dreaming. Somehow, Buffy had been returned to him.

Her mental agony slowly became his as well, and Spike nearly crumpled under the weight of it. Without thought, his demon did the only thing it could do.

The panic, the fear... Buffy was helpless against a fresh onslaught of tears, oblivious to the cool, night air and the hole from which she had just emerged.

She had woken up inside her coffin, frightened and confused. She had instinctively tried to break her way out, but her fingers refused to find purchase against the slippery silk lining above her. Terror beyond anything she'd ever felt before had gripped her with savage, rending claws. She knew with horrified certainty that if she didn't get air soon, she was going to die. Again.

Memories of where she had been and how she had come to be there were still fresh in her mind, and she sobbed inconsolably when she realized exactly where she was.

In her grave.

A maelstrom of emotions had gripped her as she'd pounded and screamed at the wall above her, certain that no one could hear her cries.

And then she had heard him, felt him.

Suddenly, she knew that everything would be okay, that HE would save her.

But now -wrapped in his arms- the lingering horror of her ordeal quickly overwhelmed her and she was helpless against its cruel onslaught. She had almost suffocated to death in her own coffin; buried alive... Buffy didn't think that she'd ever recover or feel normal again. Too many emotions began slamming into her at once, making it impossible for her to deal with them... Her heart pounded and her breath whistled torturously in her throat as she gave in to the blinding panic that swept over her.

Then she had felt his fangs slide into the mark he had left on her neck the night she died and was filled with a sudden, blissful contentment.

Here was utter peace.

She found peace with a vampire's teeth embedded in her throat. The irony of that fact was not lost on her, and even in her tortured mental state she realized his intent. This bite wasn't about control, or passion, or claiming. This was meant to calm her by taking into himself all that was causing her pain and anguish.

The tears stopped, her breathing evened out, and her eyes fluttered closed. She tipped her head back to allow him better access to her jugular.

Trust.

After what seemed an eternity, Buffy felt him gently retract his fangs from the holes in her neck. He lapped at the wounds, the soft brush of his tongue over her skin tickling slightly. She opened her eyes, looking up into his worried, fearful face.

Just like that, she realized he was nervous about her reaction to his way of dealing with her tormented outburst. Still sniffling, she offered him a slight smile.

"Thanks. I think I needed that."

The answering smile went a long way towards soothing her.

"Buffy..." his voice trailed off as the words he wanted to say fled. By the taste of her, there was no doubt that this was his Buffy.

But how?

Better yet… WHY?

TBC

a/n If you liked this, feel free to check out the Bloodshedverse, which is a Spuffy w/bite archive ONLY. There are a LOT of great challenges being written there!!! 

Please review and let us know what you think!


	3. 3

Chapter Three

Written by Starshine

Buffy buried her head in Spike's chest, shaking uncontrollably. The dampness of the cold ground began to seep through the thin clothing she wore, filling her veins with shards of ice. In the space of a heartbeat, something had violently ripped her from the all-encompassing warmth and peace that she had known since falling to her death. Now she was back in a place filled with bright, glaring lights, harsh noises, and painful confusion.

The night swelled around her in a cacophony of jangling sounds and she flinched closer to her savior. It was all quickly becoming too much to take in once more, but before her fears could manifest themselves in another fit of tears; she became conscious of a rumbling vibration beneath her cheek. Spike was purring.

Sensing her rising panic, Spike held Buffy as tight as he could in an attempt to soothe his tormented mate. He shifted, lifting her off the cold ground and onto his lap, trying his best to protect her from the harsh elements she now found herself a part of again. He felt her take a deep, steadying breath, trying to follow his lead and welcoming the peace he offered her so freely. Within moments she was limp in his arms, her head resting against his chest.

Spike ran a shaky hand through her tangled hair as he rocked her back and forth.

"It's not right," he whispered.

Buffy reluctantly pulled away to look into his eyes. What she saw nearly made her weep. The myriad of emotions she found there entranced her; joy, sorrow, pain, anger, and love. Mostly love. A deep, abiding love.

"You shouldn't be here."

The words were strained, and she was conscious of the effort he was making to keep his own selfish wants repressed.

"I dreamed of this; of having you here with me just one more time, but not like this. Not knowing what it cost you. Being apart from you was hell, but knowing what you were taken from, where you were…"

Buffy's fingers pressed against his lips and cut off the rest of his words. Her somber green eyes followed the path of her fingers as she traced the shape of his mouth before she leaned into him and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips.

Spike allowed himself a brief moment to savor the touch of her lips on his, and then he pulled slowly away from her, searching her eyes for some explanation of what had just occurred.

Buffy looked down, her fingers worrying the buttons on his red shirt. A small shiver raced through her small frame.

He quickly set her aside and got to his feet, pulling her up with him. Shrugging off his coat, he wrapped it around her and hauled her back against him, almost afraid to let her get to far from him.

"You must be freezing, pet. Let's get you home so we can suss out what the hell happened."

Buffy pressed her hand against his chest in protest, her eyes wide with fear and apprehension.

"No, not there. Not yet," she whimpered. "I can't do this yet."

Spike shushed her, rubbing his thumb lightly over the bite on her neck.

"Come on, then. I'll take you back to my crypt. You can hide out there for awhile, get your bearings, so to speak," he said.

Buffy smiled up at him. She turned to walk away and gasped in alarm as her legs started to give way. He was at her side in an instant, scooping her up in his arms.

"I can walk, Spike."

Spike smirked. There was the slightest bit of the old Buffy in her tart comment.

"Didn't think you couldn't, pet."

Buffy allowed herself to be carried across the cemetery. She could sense Spike's need to have her close, so she made no further protests. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion swept over her and she was grateful for the strength in the arms that held her. Safe in his embrace, she rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in the scent that was so uniquely Spike.

She sighed, feeling a deep sense of regret that she had denied herself the comfort of his touch in the weeks before her death. Her behavior towards him during that hateful time of her life made her cringe inwardly, and although he had accepted her apology the night she died, she had to wonder if she would ever be able to forgive herself. Throughout her life she had allowed the opinions of others to influence her thoughts and emotions, often to her own detriment. Not this time, she vowed. She wasn't sure why she had been brought back, but she was determined that this time would be different, that she wouldn't be the emotional cripple that she had been before.

Spike kicked open the crypt door, the loud bang it made causing her to stiffen and throw her arms around his neck in fear.

"'M sorry, luv," he apologized as he deposited her on top of the stone sarcophagus.

Buffy looked around, noticing the homey touches he had added since she had been gone.

"You've been busy."

Spike looked around and shrugged. "I figured I would be here for awhile. Thought I should do somethin' about the digs. Plus, Nibblet hangs around here after school when she can shake the Wiccas, doin' her homework and watchin' that God-awful VH1. Tried to make it more comfortable for her."

"How is she?" she asked, her heart in her hazel eyes.

He didn't even attempt to lie to her. "Miserable. Misses you somethin' fierce. She spends most of her time with Glenda, feels closer to her than the others, I guess. She went through a phase where she was skippin' every other day of school and got caught. The watcher gave her a stern talkin' to and she's settled down some."

Turning away from her tear-filled gaze, he busied himself with getting her some water and finding the first aid kit to doctor the bloody scrapes on her knuckles. When he felt she'd had enough time to regain some measure of control, he returned to her side.

He took her small hands in his and stared at the blood that streaked the backs of them, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I know I was a bit of a ponce back there. If I hurt you by not sayin' this sooner, I'm sorry, but it's damn good to see you again, Slayer."

Buffy bit her bottom lip, taken aback that she actual felt like smiling after her ordeal. She wondered how upset he would get if she told him how sweet he was being.

"Thanks for getting me out and that…thing you did back there," she said quietly, her fingers playing across the fresh bite marks on her neck.

Buffy tried to run a hand through her snarled hair, frowning as she realized what she must look like.

Spike had to hide a grin at the expression on her face.

"Feeling not so fresh?" he inquired.

Buffy arched an eyebrow at him. "I could use a shower."

Spike thought for a moment. He made his way across the room and knelt before a small wooden chest. Flipping back the lid, he pulled out a duffle bag. He carried it back to her but then stopped, suddenly looking uncomfortable and extremely embarrassed.

"I uh…I have plumbing downstairs if you want to take a shower," he mumbled, handing her the duffle bag with a resigned expression.

Buffy looked down at it. Her eyes widened as she slowly lifted her head to look at him.

"This…this is mine," she said, opening the bag to find the clothes and the toiletries she had packed on the day they tried to run from Glory in the Winnebago.

Spike nodded, suddenly interested in the dusty ground at his feet.

"When I got rid of the Scoobie get-a-way mobile after you….it was still in there. Everyone else had gotten their stuff out, but I didn't know what to do with yours. Dawn was still pretty torn up about what had happened; started bloody cryin' at the sight of a stake once. Couldn't give it to her, so I just kept it."

He finally looked up, flinching at the sympathetic light he found in her eyes and completely misunderstanding the reason for it.

"It wasn't like before, so don't get all snippy. Haven't built another bloody shrine to you, if that's what your thinkin'," he said defensively, sounding more like his old big bad persona for the first time since her sudden reappearance.

Buffy sighed. She hadn't been thinking that at all, but she was too tired to go into it with him right now. She looked down smoothing out her skirt.

"Well, I think I can safely assume you didn't have a hand in picking out what to bury me in," she quipped, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "This is awful."

She tried to laugh but burst into sobs instead. Spike was beside her in a flash, gathering her up in his arms and rocking her back and forth, doing whatever he could it try to ease his mate's pain and confusion.

A little while later, Spike paced the upper level as he listened for Buffy to emerge from the shower in the lower level of his crypt. He had been waiting for quite a while, enjoying the heady vanilla scent of her soap and shampoo that wafted through the air.

The water stopped and her heard her moving around. He decided to give her a few minutes to dress before going down to see if she needed any help getting up the ladder. He stopped his pacing and closed his eyes, using the pull of the Claim to gauge her emotions. Connecting with her, he sighed with relief. She wasn't hurting or in pain. In fact she was feeling slightly amused, surprised and humbled.

He frowned in confusion. What could she be doing? He heard the rustle of papers and a soft gasp from her and his eyes widened. With lightening speed, he jumped down to the second floor and whipped around the ladder.

"Oh Bollocks," he grumbled, taking a step out of the shadows.

Buffy stood there with the papers in her hand, looking down at them in wonder. Most of them were sketches of her, but there was also a few scribbled lines of sappy poetry he had tried to compose.

"Spike? You…you did these?"

Spike moved, trying to take them. She jerked away, clutching them protectively to her chest. He sighed in defeat. No way could he weasel his way out of this.

"I get bored sometimes. Sunnydale is not exactly a 24 hour Mardi Gras."

"Then why stay?" Buffy asked.

"Thought it was obvious. Made a promise to a lady that I would protect her lil sis until the end of the world," Spike whispered, taking a step closer to her.

"Spike…"

"Wait." He held up a hand to silence her. "I want you to know ... I do remember what I said. The promise. To protect her. If I had done that ... even if I didn't make it ... you wouldn't have had to jump," he said in anguish.

"But I want you to know, I did save you. Not when it counted, of course, but ... after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again ... do something different. Faster or more clever, you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways …"

"Spike, stop," Buffy commanded, her voice sounding stronger; more like her old self.

Spike's head snapped up, his eyes unflinching as they met hers.

"I couldn't get out of that coffin. I tried, but I thought…" Buffy shuddered for a moment then began to walk over to him. "Then, I felt you coming. I knew I was going to be all right."

She stopped, her lips scant inches from his. She looked into his eyes, trying to convey all that she felt. "You DID save me when it counted. Tonight…you saved me," she whispered.

Their lips touched for the briefest second before the sound of Spike's crypt door crashing open interrupted what promised to be the sweetest kiss either one of them had ever experienced.

"SPIKE!!" They heard from above. There was a flurry of footsteps flooding into his dwelling.

Buffy stiffened. Spike stroked his fingers over her cheek and down her slender neck to his mark, rubbing it in a soothing gesture.

"Spike, are you here?" They heard it the same voice call out. Both recognized it as Willow's voice. Belatedly, Spike remembered sensing the powerful magic surrounding Buffy as he dug her out of her supposed final resting the place.

Of course, The Witch…

He looked down at Buffy sensing that her suspicions mirrored his; that somehow her beloved Scoobies had something to do with her untimely return.

She was not ready to see them, not yet.

"Don't worry, pet," he said softly, guiding her over to sit on the rumpled bed. His mild tone belied the cold fury in his darkening blue eyes as he stared up at the ceiling. Buffy found herself relieved to know that his rage wasn't directed at her, but at the interlopers upstairs. He brushed a kiss over her hair and went to the ladder.

"I'll take care of this."

tbc...

thank you to Spikeslovebite for beta'ing this chapter!  
PLEASE review and let us know what you think!


	4. 4

Chapter 4  
Written by bloodshedbaby  
Beta'd by Spikeslovebite

a/n To ? who reviewed and asked if this fic is updated elsewhere, the answer is YES, it is being updated on my spuffy w/bite archive, The Bloodshedverse. You can find the link for that in the 'author' info. Believe me, I KNOW about being booted off (3x survivor here, LOL) Please oh please review!!

4.

Any other day, anyother scenario, the panic and fear flooding the crypt above him would have been relished and enjoyed. Tonight though, it just filled him with a smoldering rage and Spike was barely able to keep his demon caged.

With a stealthiness inherent of his predatory make-up, Spike effortlessly ascended the ladder to the top level.

There, he found Xander, Willow, Anya...and Dawn huddled in a tight circle, backs rigid with anxiety and distress as they talked amongst themselves.

'What could have happened to her?' he heard Dawn cry, and his gut clenched. The 'bit had been in on it, this thoughtless resurrection. Then his mind flashed to Dawn's botched attempt at summoning her mum back to life, and he realized it wasn't too surprising. this time, however, she had help. And not just a well-meaning, but misguided vamp to escort her through the magicks.

There was an underlying current of power sweeping the air, potent and heady that set Spike's teeth on edge.

"Don't you lot ever bleedin' knock?" he growled, stalking towards them.

"Eep!" Dawn swung around, eyes wide, and Spike could hear the sudden escalation of multiple heartbeats as their involuntary 'fight or flight' adrenaline kicked in "You totally scared me!"

Spike wore a hard mask as he took in the dilated, dark eyes of his l'il bit and Red, the final nail now pounded in the coffin. He didn't want to believe that Dawn had been involved in pulling Buffy from heaven, but he had the evidence right before him. She reeked of it. The whelp and his bird looked a little off, but nowhere in the same league.

"What do you want?" Spike tried to keep the anger out of his voice.

"What's the matter, Spike?" Dawn asked, frowning. "Hostile much?"

Spike ignored her as he kept his stare pinned on Willow. "Uh...." Willow stuttered, now unsure how to begin and dreading the vampire's reaction. "Have you, uh, been patrolling tonight?"

"Nope," Spike lied.

"Oh." Disappointment overflowed in the quietly spoken word. "So, uh... y-you haven't run into anything...unusual, then?"

"Like what?" Spike arched one scarred brow in unfriendly question.

"Like... uh....," Willow glanced helplessly at Dawn.

"Like... Buffy?" Dawn cautiously asked, fearing the wrath about to be unleashed but needing the reassurance that their attempts had been successful; the hopeless despair upon seeing the decimated gravesite still fresh in her mind.

"What did you do, Dawn?" The question was asked with such quiet lethalness that Dawn unconsciously took a step back. There had never been an occasion that she could remember where she had feared Spike, but she had never seen this cold detachment pointed in her direction, and a small voice inside of her suddenly questioned if she had allowed Willow to do the right thing.

"Me? Nothing!" Dawn squeaked, looking helplessly at willow.

"Red?"

Willow found herself flinching back in fear before remembering the chip, suddenly reminded that Spike was actually a vampire; a fact that had become forgotten and ignored as time went on.

Confident in his inability to do them harm, Willow stuck in her chin out defiantly. "We did a spell."

"Are you bloody insane?"

"Hey back off," Xander suddenly injected, his own hostility towards Spike clearly evident on his face. "Nobody asked you"

Spike crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep calming breath. "Why don't you tell me exactly what you're doing here, standing in my crypt for then, eh? You obviously need me for something, or you wouldn't have burst in here like your bloody arses were on fire."

"They did a spell to bring Buffy back, only now they can't find her and they don't know what they brought back." The explanation was suddenly spilled by Anya, who stood in aggravated silence. She was tired and just wanted to go home.

Spike's mouth tightened into a grim line as he fought off his demon's rage. "Any reason particular reason why you felt the need to mess with the natural order of things?"

Willow's jaw dropped. "She went to HELL, Spike. As in, place of eternal torment?"

"And what makes you so certain of that, eh?"

The vehemence which Spike posed that question should have clued Willow into the fact that he knew more than he was letting on, but her mind was too drained and too frazzled to notice. She tried to worked frantically around that question. "I uh... did a multi-dimension locator spell," she quickly supplied, hoping she sounded convincing..

"Spike, my sister was in hell," Dawn's voice cracked as tears tried to take hold. "We had to do something! Don't you understand? I couldn't let my sister stay in..."

Spike's heart constricted at the pool of tears in Dawn's eyes. He understood her reasons for wanting her sis back; had held her enough nights while her salty tears had soaked his shirt in pure misery to know that Dawn's life without Buffy was its own private hell. But he had a feeling that Red's reasons were a bit more selfish.

"So... you did a locator spell? And it said she was in hell?" Spike's eyes never left Willow's face as he watched her fidget.

"Um... yeah."

"Come on, the Worthless Wonder doesn't know anything. We're wasting time here," Xander announced, turning to face the door.

"Do you know anything Spike?" Dawn's eyes were pleading.

Spike opened his mouth to reply when a voice behind him spoke.

"You left me in my coffin."

The shocked gasps echoed in the stone crypt. "Buffy?" Dawn, Willow and Xander reverently whispered, while Anya remained silent studying the figure before her.

Spike turned slowly around to see Buffy's head peeking through the hole in the stone floor. He held his hand out to her in silent question and his heart leapt into his throat when she emerged slowly up the ladder and slipped her warm, clean hand through his palm.

"Oh my god!! Buffy!!!" Dawn cried, moving forward to hug her sister, not daring to believe that it was really her and not the BuffyBot. But Dawn knew it was tucked away in the basement of the Magic Shop after a few failed attempts to have it assume Buffy's rightful place as Slayer of the Hellmouth.

Buffy held up one hand in quiet rebuke to halt her sister's rush, face closing off to the hurt look that settled on Dawn's face. "You left me in my coffin." Buffy repeated softly, refusing to yield to the temptation to sweep Dawn into a crushing hug. The knowledge that her sister was involved in what Buffy considered the ultimate betrayal was excruciating .

Dawn sent a betrayed look in Willow's direction, her bottom lip quivering, and her eyes wide with horrified realization. "Willow?"

Willow's haunted look matched Dawn's as denial sprung immediately from her lips. "Dawnie, I swear I didn't know..."

Tormented yet hopeful blue eyes turned back to Buffy. "Oh my god... Buffy..." A reverent hopeful look crossed Dawn's face. "Is it really you?"

With a solemn nod, Buffy confirmed her newly resurrected status, her hand almost crushing Spike's with the strength of her frantic grip.

"We did it," Xander stated with awe, still buzzing on the power from the spell.

"Yeah... you really did it," Buffy whispered quietly, her voice hitching with simmering emotion. Tears once again flooded her eyes and she looked at Spike helplessly, more than willing to put herself in his capable hands and find solace from this harsh reality.

Without missing a beat, Spike gathered her close, Buffy's cheek instinctively seeking comfort against the hard contours of his chest as her arms wrapped around his waist.

"Hello! Comforting male hero type standing right here!" Xander complained, taking a step forward to remove Buffy from Spike's grip, finding himself more than a little irked by Buffy's ungrateful behavior. It's not as if it had been the picnics of all picnics evoking whatever goddess Willow had decided to have her witchy way with. Gratitude would have been nice. Falling into his arms even nicer, but hey, he wasn't selfish.

The low dangerous growl that emanated from Spike at Xander's move startled the intruders, and they all stared aghast at the game faced vampire before them, his teeth bared and yellow eyes narrowed with warning.

"Spike...?" Dawn whispered, confused by this conflicting behavior. The fact that Buffy didn't react to the danger being posed was puzzling, and once more Dawn felt a tinge of fear being in Spike's presence.

Game face retreated back into the sharp angles that made up Spike's face and he turned his attention back to Buffy, burrowing his nose into her hair, the damp scent of earth still clinging to the golden strands.

Xander rounded on Willow. "You didn't tell us that this spell was going to make her crave the dead! It was just supposed to bring that what was dead to life!!"

"I didn't know!" Willow cried, all self assuredness gone now, the insecure teenager re-emerging in its place.

Anya continued to watch the couple, noting the tender way Spike ran his hand along the back of her head, the low rumbling purr vibrating from his chest, and most telling was the way Buffy accepted each tender caress from this particular vampire. Her anguish becoming less palpable as Spike slowly soothed her. Something was niggling at Anya, some important font of knowledge that explained the behavior she was witnessing.

The overly-protective vampire. The purring. The way Buffy instinctively sought his comfort. It came to her suddenly, and she blamed her addled brain for being so long on the uptake.

She had just turned to tell Xander her suspicions when her man in question suddenly tensed, his body bristling with rage.

"You son of a bitch," Xander bit out, his hand going to his back pocket to retrieve his stake.

"Xander!" Anya called out, trying to get his attention. Really, Xander could be so dense sometimes.

If Spike heard Xander's outburst he paid no attention, the blonde in his arms his sole focus. He turned her so that she was shielded from their prying eyes, knowing she needed a few moments to get herself pulled together again.

Xander, whose sense of outrage had escalated beyond anything he was capable of dealing with, stepped forward in hurried determination to relieve Buffy of her most current problem. Spike. The bastard vampire. The one who would soon be a pile a dust. Then maybe Buffy might show them a scrap of gratitude.

Xander reached the entwined pair and lifted his stake in preparation to rid the world of Spike once and for all. He set his teeth and brought the stake down in a swift, hard arc, aiming between the shoulder blades.

A hair's breadth from his target, Xander's wrist was caught in a vice-like grip and twisted viciously. The stake clattered to the floor and a ragged scream tore from his lips as he dropped to his knees in front of an extremely pissed off Buffy

"No one touches Spike," she ground out, her eyes now glittering with a ferocity the likes of which Xander had never seen. At least not directed towards him. Well, much, he amended quickly.

"But Buffy," Xander griped from his crumpled state on the hard floor of the crypt while glaring at the vampire in question, "that bloodsucking bastard bit you when you were big with the vulnerable. Can't you see how wrong that is?"

tbc,..

We'd truly appreciate any reviews you could feed us!! Starshine and Bloodshedbaby


	5. 5

Chapter 5

by Starshine

Buffy turned to Spike for a moment, her shadowed eyes beseeching as she silently conveyed her intent.

He crossed his arms, hating the whole situation. He had hoped to buy her some time, give her some measure of peace. It would have been a pale comparison to what had been stolen from her, but still; he had wanted to give her more of a break before she was forced to deal with a situation like the one in front of her.

But, no...in typical Scoobie fashion, her so-called friends proved that they cared only about their own selfish needs and had ruthlessly thrust this confrontation upon her.

Buffy had been back less than a few hours and nearly every minute of that time she had found herself fighting. Fighting to claw her way out of a cold, dark coffin. Fighting to readjust to a world she thought had been left behind. And now another battle, not with a big nasty demon or newly risen fledgling, but with them...the people that were supposed to love her.

He would have gladly chased them away, made them stew in their fear and confusion, force them to suffer the way she had, but the decision wasn't his to make. This was Buffy's fight; all he could do was sit back and watch.

She continued to stare at him waiting for confirmation that he would allow her to handle this.

Spike closed his eyes for a moment, nostrils flaring as he drew in a deep, unnecessary breath, then nodded slowly.

Buffy turned around, looking down at Xander and offering him a hand up.

Hesitantly, he accepted her hand, raising to his feet. She held on, gripping tightly to let him know that if he had tried his previous course of action once more, there would be serious repercussions. Visibly startled at her show of strength in defense of the evil undead, he yanked his hand away from Buffy and hurried to join the rest of the group.

Xander stared at her in shock. Coming back from a hell dimension must have left her pretty confused. Maybe she needed to be reminded of what they were to her, of how much more they meant to her than the worthless creature sitting on the stone sarcophagus behind her.

"Look at yourself, Buffy. Spike's working you and you don't even care!" he bellowed. "You'd never let him touch you before, it's this coming back from wherever you were that has you all screwed up!"

"I let him do more than touch me on the night I died, Xander!" Buffy yelled.

Four pairs of eyes widened and four mouths gaped open in shocked surprise as she continued.

"Besides, who are you to question my ability to gauge right from wrong? How dare you, after what you guys just did?" she said, her voice low. "As for Spike taking advantage of me? You're making a lot of assumptions."

"He bit you!" Xander yelled.

"And I let him. I wanted him to," Buffy admitted. "But that's between me and Spike."

"Buffy, we know you've been through a lot. You were in a hell dimension, probably surrounded by things like him. But we're your friends, remember?"

Buffy clenched her fist trying to calm herself.

"My Friends?" She questioned.

"My Friends who left me to crawl out of a coffin." She absentmindedly ran her fingers across the bite marks on her neck. "Spike felt me. He was the one that dug me out. He was the only one that was there. Where were the rest of you?" Buffy questioned.

"We didn't know. I swear, Buffy!" Willow cried.

Buffy looked at her best friend. She searched for an inkling of remorse in the redheaded witch's expression, but found none.

"You didn't know... That's pretty obvious. What did you know when you decided to rescue me from the hell dimension, Willow? Did you know for sure I was there? What told you that I was suffering so much that you had to play hero? A dream? Some prophecy?" Buffy goaded.

Willow took a step back toward Anya.

"No we just thought…"

"Did you!" Buffy yelled, tears flooding her eyes. "Did you stop to think for one moment that things might be the way they were supposed to be? Did you stop to think maybe I was all right? That maybe I was…"

Buffy swayed on her feet for a moment. As she fought to regain her balance, she felt two strong, cool hands holding her up by her hips. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, feeling the calm he sent through his touch.

Dawn looked at her sister, her tortured words swimming around her head. She let out a horrified gasp.

"You weren't in a hell dimension were you?" she asked her voice trembling.

Buffy looked down, shaking her head.

"You were..."

"At peace," Spike interjected, wrapping her in his arms. She immediately turned, accepting the comfort he offered.

"Oh God, Buffy we…"

"Thought you knew where she was Red? Locator spell and all," Spike spat out, his narrowed eyes never leaving Willow's flushed face. The Wicca was so jacked up on dark mojo she could hardly finish a coherent thought.

Dawn stared at her sister, her heart breaking. "This is my fault. I'm sorry, Buffy. I thought you were being tortured. If I knew you were..I would have never let them do it."

Spike, still holding Buffy tightly in his arms, looked at Dawn with wary confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"She used her." They heard a quiet voice say from the door of the crypt.

Tara MacClay hesitated for a moment before slowly entering, her eyes running over Buffy with an expression of immeasurable sadness in their depths. Buffy stiffened for a moment, watching the blonde witch carefully as she tried to gage her involvement in tonight's events.

It was plain to see by the look on Tara's face that she too felt betrayed.

"How?" Spike asked, his eyes flickering gold for a moment as he glared at Willow.

"The Monks used an Animation Spell to make Dawnie. It brings life to that which is not living."

Dawn hugged herself tightly, her head lowered as she stared at the ground.

"You used her? Like some sort of battery? Willow you could have killed her!" Buffy screamed.

Willow gulped hard. How did all this turn out so twisted? All she had wanted was Buffy back. She'd convinced herself that she was doing the right thing. Dawn needed her sister. Willow was a poor substitute for the fallen slayer. Dawn needed so many things that she couldn't give her, things she was still learning herself. She was barely 22 and suddenly she was a teenager's surrogate mother?

Tara walked over to Dawn putting her hand around her shoulder.

"I know why you let them do it, Dawn. You just missed your sister." Tara looked at Willow. "But you...You said you wouldn't do it. You promised me. I told you this could happen, but you did it anyway."

Willow and Xander exchanged a look.

"We thought we were helping," Xander said quietly.

"Well you thought wrong," Spike snarled.

"Oh and you're so much better than us? Don't get all self-righteous on us Spike! Don't tell me you're not happy. Look me in the eyes and tell me when you saw Buffy alive, that that wasn't the happiest moment of your entire existence!" Xander challenged.

Spike flinched. As angry as he was, the whelp was right. The ache that been his constant companion was gone; replaced by the warmth of Buffy, alive and in his arms. He couldn't deny it.

"The difference is; he listened," Dawn whispered. She lifted her head to gaze at her sister.

"I told you all what Buffy said to me before she jumped. She told me to take care of everyone, and that we were supposed to take care of each other. To be strong. She said she'd figured it out and that she was going to be okay. We didn't listen. But Spike did."

Buffy buried her face in Spike's cool chest. She wanted to forgive her sister, to take her in her arms and tell her it was all right, but she couldn't. Not yet.

Spike lifted her chin with a finger and looked into her eyes. He could feel her distress rapidly escalating once more.

"Spike? No more. Please, I can't..." she choked out.

He nodded, kissing the top of her head. "Come on, pet. Let's get you tucked in."

"Buffy, this is insane!" screamed Xander.

"SHE SAID NO MORE!" Spike roared.

Dawn flinched. Seeing her misery, Tara gathered the teenager in her arms.

"Leave it," she commanded in a no-nonsense voice. "Buffy, we'll be here when you're ready, and not before." Her eyes hardened once more as she glared at the rest of the group. "We should all go now."

Anya pulled Xander toward the door. When he resisted, she yanked viciously on his arm. "Xander Harris, move it. NOW!"

Tara looked at him her eyes pleading him to follow his girlfriend's lead. Defeated he walked out.

Holding a crying Dawn, Tara smiled softly at Spike. "I'll take care of her."

She ushered Dawn out, pausing for a brief moment to look at her girlfriend then slowly walking out.

Willow stood watching as Spike guided Buffy toward the stone sarcophagus, gently sitting her down. He turned, walking toward her with his eyes still filled with rage.

She backed hurriedly out of the crypt until she stood right outside the doorway. She looked at Buffy sitting there with her eyes closed, arms tightly wrapped around herself.

"Please, Spike. Tell her I didn't understand."

Spike looked at each one of them for a moment, then back at Willow.

"That's the thing about magic, Red, There's always consequences….Always."

He slammed the door, leaving them all standing there feeling shut out, each wondering if they would ever be forgiven. Wondering if Buffy would ever let any of them back in.


End file.
